


A Million Things

by cowboykylux



Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Begging, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Humiliation, Masturbation, Mob Boss Kylo Ren, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Sloppy, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation, mention of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Kylo kills a very important donor at one of your fundraising events, and when you get home, he practically begs for punishment. And then, he begs some more.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949992
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	A Million Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Kinktober 2020 fic event
> 
> Prompt: Humiliation

He knows he’s in trouble, knows as soon as it happens. It all happened so fast, Kylo is still breathing hard, his heart racing, his palm clammy as you hold his hand in the car, as you squeeze it tight. He loves you so much, loves that even when he’s in trouble, you still want to hold his hand.

It’s a silent car ride, away from the fundraiser, back towards the great big penthouse in the sky that you and he call home. Dopheld, for once, is blissfully quiet, and that’s only because he can sense the tension in the air.

Only when you’ve walked with him down the pretty marble lobby and corralled him up the private elevator, when you’ve got him back behind the closed doors of your bedroom and pushed down so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, do you let go of his hand – and that’s only to wind a fist tightly into his hair, yanking his hair back.

“What the fuck was that back there?” You frown at him. Your voice is lovely, so lovely and warm, even laced with seriousness like this. There’s no note of anger, not a hint anywhere other than the way your brows crease ever so slightly, and a rush of adrenaline washes through Kylo’s body.

You’re the most dangerous woman in the world, the most dangerous _person,_ and you both know it.

He can’t help but bite down on the inside of his cheek, can’t help but widen his eyes ever so slightly when he looks up at you, can’t help but blush crimson because that thought, that knowledge of just how lethal you are, makes him hard.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbles, baritone rich and deep and bouncing around in the quiet of the room, bouncing around inside your chest.

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to talk about it, I asked you what the hell were you thinking?” You tsk back softly, soothingly, tightening the hand in his hair. His cock leaks in his nice pleated trousers, and he has to work hard to suppress a moan.

“He just – ” Kylo huffs, frustrated thinking about the series of events that led you both here – how some snobbish Englishman had been chatting you up entirely too casually, how he’d been eyeing your body up and down, how he had shot him for it – he pouts and puffs his lips up and tries to be nonchalant when he says, “He was looking at you.”

“He was supposed to be looking at me Kylo he was -- are you hard?” You cut yourself off midsentence, realization coloring your tone, and Kylo flushes bright red with embarrassment.

“What?” He doesn’t dare blink, doesn’t dare do anything at all, other than silently beg you to do exactly what he hopes you’re going to.

You grin as you release your death grip on his hair, and oh, he knows he’s in for it.

Kylo’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, and you carefully, slowly, slide a foot between his legs. Using your knee, you pry his thighs apart and there it is, the long thick line of his cock straining against the fabric of those trousers. You can see it twitching, jumping at the thought of punishment, at the thought of your sharp silver tongue and wicked words, and for a second, you debate making him come in his underwear for all your trouble.

“Is that it, you were thinking with your big cock instead of your brain?” You scold him, already stepping out of your heels, reaching behind you and working on the zipper on the back of your dress. He tracks the movement with great interest, watches as you slip the expensive garment off and let it fall to the floor.

“Baby…” Kylo licks his lips and moves to touch you, but you quickly smack at his hand and reach out to snatch his chin between your manicured fingers, holding him steady.

“Let me see it.” You practically seethe, your jaw hard set even as you’re standing in front of him in just a bra and panties.

How you wield such power, such authority with ease, makes Kylo weak. His cock is so hard, it’s throbbing for you, leaking all over himself, his hands shake as he pulls it out through the fly of his trousers. His beautifully cut head is flushed dark and angry, desperate, he’s so desperate for you his hips are already moving, already squirming under your touch.

“Absolutely fucking obscene.” You sneer as you dig your fingers deeper into his chin, his jaw, and his eyes flutter shut as pleasure sparks up his brain, up his spine, “How do you do anything with that between your legs, hm? How do you function, it’s disgusting. Jerk off, go on, touch yourself, you’re so frantic for it go on.”

At the permission, Kylo’s hand practically flies to his cock, wrapping his calloused fingers around it and squeezing it as tightly as you’ve got your hand on his jaw. He smears his precome up and down his shaft, slicking himself up with it, moaning as the ridges of his veins nudge against his palm. He’s already breathing hard, already biting at his lip so hard he’s sure it’ll bleed, and it only spurs him on further.

You unhook your bra and let it fall to the floor, before pushing him to lay back further onto the mattress and straddling his waist. He’s still dressed, completely and fully dressed, down to the white bowtie around his neck, and somehow he feels more vulnerable than ever. He has to fight not to come right then and there.

Your body is gorgeous above him and he strokes himself off hard and fast. You’re so close to him that he goes nearly cross-eyed to see you, to focus on you. He can feel your nipples brush against him through the starched white of his dress shirt, he can feel the heat coming from your pussy as you grind yourself down on his waist, he lets you pry his mouth open and spit on his tongue, he swallows it all – he’ll swallow everything you’ll ever give him.

“C-can you – ” He whines, can’t even get the words out, can’t even ask, he trips and stumbles over his own tongue as he twists his fist up and down the length of his shaft, hips bucking up against his own hand, so hot in his tuxedo, hot hot hot underneath you.

“What? What do you want from me, want me to touch you?” Your voice is mocking and teasing in a harsh way that has him spurting up onto his hand, oozing and dripping and drooling the way you spit onto his tongue.

“Please!” He gasps, his balls drawing up tight, his stomach tensing and fluttering as his arm grows sore, tired, burning burning burning in the best way, wanting nothing more than this, than you.

“Well too fucking bad.” You snap loudly, and Kylo has to squeeze the base of his cock with a hard moan so he doesn’t come before you tell him he can, if you ever tell him he can. “You’re going to get yourself off and come all over yourself like the greedy slut that you are.”

“Unghh, fuck, I – ” Kylo hiccups, giving himself in to you, letting the shame rip through his body and make his heart pound loud loud loud in his ears, his dick throbbing pulsing aching, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby I’m sorry forgive me.”

“Is this okay? Do you want me to keep going?” You cup his cheek sweetly and sincerely, looking into his eyes with a seriousness that he doesn’t have the words to tell you how much he adores, appreciates. You check in on him, the way he checks in on you during times like these, never wanting to go too far, never wanting to really hurt him.

“Please – please don’t stop – please, I’m sorry.” He assures and reassures, until it dissolves into babbling, big fat tears pooling up in his eyes and spilling over his cheeks, wetting his hair. “Please, please – baby, I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why I bothered to bring you today, knowing how you get, how you’d undoubtedly cause a scene. A stunt like that could’ve gotten us caught and then where would we be, hm? You think you get to come in this pussy in prison?” You give in finally, letting go of his face and pulling his free hand, the hand that’s been twisting and curling in the neatly made comforter, guiding it underneath the fabric of your panties.

“No! No I – I didn’t mean to.” His fingers automatically seek your folds, and he moans loud when he finds you soaked, when he finds that your body is as wet for him as he is hard for you. It takes two seconds of fingering you and sliding through the heat of your pussy for him to cry out, “Oh fuck, fuck I’m going to come.”

“Beg for it, whore.” You lick your teeth, and Kylo is quick to oblige.

“Please – please honey, baby, please let me come I’ll be so good, I’ll be good for you I just – oh shit – I just need to come, I’ll do anything, please!” He’s so hot, sweating all over, hot for you, desperate for you, desperate to come, he has to come, he’ll kill anyone, do anything, burn down the world for him if you asked, if you let him come.

You know, and you love him, love this giant man quivering and sobbing tears of pleasure pain beneath you, so you kiss his cheek softly, kindly, and ask, “Where do you want it?”

“In you, please please let me fill your cunt up.” He chokes out, and you grin.

The second you’re nodding with approval, Kylo’s ripping the panties off you. The cotton doesn’t stand a chance against his strength, and it doesn’t even bother to try. He’s lifting your hips up and seating you down down down on the hard length of his dick before he can even take a breath, coming in you so blindly that he jackknifes up and almost smacks you in the face with his face from the intensity of it.

He’s on cloud nine, when he comes. It’s such a forceful orgasm that he almost thinks he’s blacked out from it, from the feeling. There is nothing but you, and him, and a velvety heat enveloping your bodies – he isn’t a particularly religious man, but he wonders if this must be what Heaven is like. He doesn’t know if he’s just fucked up and hallucinating, drunk off the way you make him feel, but he can almost visualize his come pouring into you, can almost hear it hitting your walls as your pelvic muscles grip him tight. Such a tight pussy you have, he thinks. Or maybe he says it, he doesn’t know. Everything is beautiful and soft and warm, in his head.

He can feel something then, the soft presses of your lips all over his face. Slow, careful, gentle presses that lull him back to reality, and he whines, his eyes stinging from salty tears as he cracks them open. Your face fills up his entire field of vision, and with a trembling hand he caresses your cheek.

“Thank you.” His voice is thick and you simply shake your head with a kind, loving smile.

“Shh, it’s okay honey, you’re okay.” You roll yourselves over so you’re both on your sides, and you gather him up in your arms, nuzzle his face into your chest and smooth down his hair. “I’m not angry, beautiful boy.”

The praise floods through him and where your bodies are still joined, he comes a little harder, making you chuckle fondly, adoringly.

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” He rubs his nose into the pit of your throat, having half a brain cell to think about the sonofabitch that wound you both up in this position. It’s a lie, and you see straight through it, and he knows it. 

“Yes you did, but that’s okay.” You hum happily, carding your fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, making his whole body melt and relax into bliss in your arms. You kiss his temple in small little smooches, smiling at the lipstick prints that are left behind. “I love you so much, you did so well. We would’ve killed him sooner or later.”

“Yeah?” He cranes his neck to look up at you with surprised brows. The Englishman was a large donor to your particular fundraiser, Kylo wonders what he might’ve done to irritate you into thinking about killing him.

“Mhm, drink this.” Is all you say, reaching over to the nightstand and plucking a bottle of cool water. He knows you’ll tell him more later, when he’s awake enough and sharp enough to pay attention.

“I like when you’re mean.” He says apropos of nothing around a big sip of water, and you laugh, and he smiles, and everything feels right and good in the world.

“I’m never mean.” You wink at him, and he nods, because no, of course not.

You’re many things, a million things, things so wonderful and perfect and deadly and sexy as shit, but not _mean_. Of course not.


End file.
